Routine lapsA Poem by Ed Rector
In the beginning laid two worlds,
In ones vision laid a passion that set the other world aflame. In the others eyes, far from hypnotized, lay a trick unseen, The deception of a man who would leave. Single with a kid whose father he'd never know A b*****d to women who only wanted a happy home. At a young age imagination played a key To keep the doors locked, from the surrounding reality. From the bombs that flew over innocent heads, From the poverty stricken, from woes and the dread. The screams of the people, and all of their cries, And he wondered how long he’d be left alive. So the mother told him son play into your mind cause each day you’ll grow older only to find That your key to keep the evils at bay has been rusted. And without any hesitation fifteen years had passed. Young, young love be purest true, Engulfed in another’s eyes of blue, Everything seems like a dream, that no one else has seen. It’s young love, young love, young love. He looks at the beauty, when he lays himself to sleep. A gaze upon the beauty, the beauty on the wall. Upon it he remembers a women once in white Whose friends and family gathered all together After her final gasp and last glimpse of light. Now he lays restless in the middle of the night, And he thinks to himself will this ever ease. At twenty years old he’s out on his own Just trying to get by, and the destiny he once had Seems like just another one of the fads. As life continues to go on anyway, Slowly turning the days away. Life has him captured working like a dog In factory fogs and chopping down logs Everyday and he’s just sick of it all. Working like sheep to feed the herders. They lined him in a suit, in bunkers they put him. Raising cities he’s never heard of. Oh when will the cruelty be rid of? When he got back home There’s no place for his throne. So he just travels around to find a new place to call his town. Under the bridge - right over there. He’ll take rest for the night, Away from the sights of swine. Do you smell his perfume Of rubbish and booze, his new suit. Supplied by the levy. the world seems so cold today. Just like it seemed yesterday. Like a bomb the masses seem to fade, Gone instantly without warning. As the cold sets into the veins. oooh - in dire need of change. He’s feeling rather down, the world seems like it doesn’t want you anymore. The door seems farther each day, Gradually slipping away. At night, nothing seems right, The cold isolation sets in, once again. And the barrier he creates, Becomes his ill’ fate, As death creeps closer each day. Thirty years go by and he still wonders why? “Oh, what have I become? Oh, what have I ever truly done? Was life worth living this long, With my youth so far gone? And how much more time is left for me Until I am able to finally be set free? Until we meet our end we live on and on again. Vowing ourselves to a life in search of something more And on the passing of a wind old age becomes a friend. Until we meet our maker, until we meet our end. My years went by in the blink of an eye. My time lead me hear, looking in the mirror. With a face you hardly recognize. With hopes and dreams of better days Until we meet our end, living on again and again..” © 2010 Ed Rector |
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1 Review Added on August 28, 2010 Last Updated on August 28, 2010 AuthorEd RectorSanta Cruz, CAAboutskateboard, write, lyrics/ poetry, play the guitar and am looking for a shorty. more..Writing
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